


pull me down hard (and drown me in love)

by MovesLikeBucky



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, M/M, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), Tooth-Rotting Fluff, now with art!, y'all I dunno what to tell you it's Soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:36:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22914103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MovesLikeBucky/pseuds/MovesLikeBucky
Summary: He loves to watch the sunrise, to reflect on the time they’ve been here.  How easily they’ve settled into this quiet domesticity. How well they fit with each other.  After millennia of dancing around everything, he didn’t think anything would be left to surprise him.  And yet even now, years later, he still marvels at how easily their fingers lace together, how right and safe the kisses feel, how their bodies seem to have been made for each other.  Not two halves of one whole, but two beings who make each other better.Aziraphale closes his eyes and breathes in the salt air, exhaling slowly.  Another small human thing that isn’t needed, but he likes how it centers him.  He doesn’t hear the quiet footsteps behind him, but he feels the kiss to the back of his neck and the blanket-wrapped arms wind around his stomach from behind.“Out here musing again, angel?” Crowley’s sleep-soft voice whispers into the crook of Aziraphale’s neck.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 62
Kudos: 268
Collections: AJ’s personal faves, Ixnael’s Recommendations, MFU Palentine's Day Exchange, Our Own Side, Top Aziraphale Recs





	pull me down hard (and drown me in love)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Marleenam](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marleenam/gifts).



> My first gift exchange! And I had the honor of writing something for Marleenam, whomst I love very much <3\. She wanted soft and fluffy, maybe a little sexy. I went overboard with the sexy. Oops xD
> 
> Special thanks goes out to [NarumiKaiko](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NarumiKaiko/pseuds/NarumiKaiko) and [Phoenix_of_Athena](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phoenix_of_Athena/pseuds/Phoenix_of_Athena) for beta reading, [Lurlur](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lurlur/pseuds/Lurlur) for britpicking, and [benzedrine_calmstheitch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/benzedrine_calmstheitch/pseuds/benzedrine_calmstheitch) for cheerleading xD
> 
> Now with some [absolutely beautiful art](https://twitter.com/sinnerpink_/status/1251136052997193728?s=20) commissioned from my dear friend Kuro-cchi ([NSFW Twitter](https://twitter.com/sinnerpink_?s=20), [SFW Twitter](https://twitter.com/kurocchi_), [Insta](https://www.instagram.com/kurocchi.art/))

Steam wafts from the warm mug of tea in Aziraphale’s hands. It’s early, the light of dawn is barely creeping over the horizon. He loves the sunrise here. He’s standing on the beach, on their own little patch of paradise, watching the waves roll in. They catch the early rays of sunlight and sparkle like jewels, stretching out further than he can see. Build, crest, break; the pattern continuing over and over. 

Aziraphale likes the repetition. Enjoys the monotony of it, believe it or not. He finds it calming, especially in this early morning chill. The cadence stays so much the same, but it will be different soon enough. Within the hour. Within the day. Subtle changes and shifts with the tides that make the waves break a bit different than they did the last time. Before you know it, the entire pattern has changed.

He thinks perhaps life is quite a bit like that.

He pulls his jumper tighter around himself, keeping out the chill of the early morning air, and sips his tea. It’ll stay nice and hot as long as he’s out here. 

He loves to watch the sunrise, to reflect on the time they’ve been here. How easily they’ve settled into this quiet domesticity. How well they fit with each other. After millennia of dancing around so many feelings and desires, he didn’t think anything would be left to surprise him. And yet even now, years later, he still marvels at how easily their fingers lace together, how right and safe the kisses feel, how their bodies seem to have been made for each other. Not two halves of one whole, but two beings who make each other better.

Aziraphale closes his eyes and breathes in the salt air, exhaling slowly. Another small human thing that isn’t needed, but he likes how it centers him. He doesn’t hear the quiet footsteps behind him, but he feels the lips on the back of his neck and the blanket-wrapped arms wind around his stomach from behind.

“Out here musing again, angel?” Crowley’s sleep-soft voice whispers into the crook of Aziraphale’s neck. Aziraphale sighs and leans into him, seeking out Crowley’s hand with his own where it’s trapped under the fluffy tartan blanket from their living room. He runs a thumb over the ring on Crowley’s finger, reminding himself that this is real.

“You know how much I enjoy the sunrise, darling.”

“Yes, and the sunset, and noon, and every other time in between,” Crowley says, nuzzling into the angel’s neck and planting a couple of kisses on his shoulder. “I, however, _don’t_ enjoy a cold bed, so if I have to come down to the shoreline to drag my husband back inside I will.”

“Ah yes, you’re so mistreated, aren’t you, my dear?” Aziraphale sips his tea with a smug smile on his face.

“Horribly.” Crowley kisses him right under his ear. “Absolutely appalling conditions around here,” he continues, trailing kisses down Aziraphale’s neck back to his shoulder again. “Should file a complaint.”

“I’ll only be a few more minutes,” Aziraphale drops a tender kiss into Crowley’s hair, “then we can do whatever you’d like.”

“Whatever I’d like, eh?” Aziraphale can feel the mischievous smile against his shoulder as Crowley peppers him with kisses once again, his arms wound as tight around Aziraphale as they can be. Aziraphale just smiles and drinks his tea.

“Yes, we could get some more sleep,” Aziraphale says, unaffected, pointedly ignoring the clingy demon trying to wrap around him like the snake he is, “or we could watch that show about those four ladies you love so much. Maybe go out for an early lunch later.”

“You said whatever _I_ like...what if I’d like something else?” Crowley whispers against Aziraphale’s ear in the precise manner that drives him crazy. Aziraphale represses a shiver.

“Oh, and what did you have in mind, darling?”

“I could think of quite a few things,” Crowley says, burying his nose in the soft hair near Aziraphale’s ear, breathing in deep. It still takes Aziraphale by surprise sometimes, this affection so freely given.

“Is that right?” Aziraphale does his best to not let his voice betray him as he swallows down the last few sips of his tea, staring out at the sunrise but only half paying attention to it.

Crowley slowly and sleepily kisses the shell of his ear, “mmhmm, in quite a few places.”

“Oh- do tell?” Aziraphale asks over his hitched breath. 

“Possibly in quite a few different ways,” Crowley takes his earlobe between his teeth and Aziraphale struggles to keep his knees from buckling out from under him, gripping Crowley’s hand even tighter. 

The mug is banished to the kitchen sink with a thought as Aziraphale finds the sunrise to be the last thing on his mind. “Wily old serpent.” He turns to face Crowley, planting kisses across the demon’s cheeks and nose.

“Oh yes, very wily,” Crowley cranes his neck as Aziraphale’s lips move in that direction, giving the angel better access. “I could do with a good thwarting.”

“Yes, I believe you could.” Aziraphale runs his teeth along a sharp collarbone, relishing the gasp it pulls out of his husband. He kisses the sound off of Crowley’s lips, deeply and passionately. 

They bring their lips together again and again until they both dissolve into laughter at the absurdity of it- snogging each other senseless out here on the beach wrapped in a blanket like a couple of teenagers.

“Come on then, back inside,” Crowley says, entwining their fingers together again, both of them grinning like idiots as they make their way back to their little cottage. 

They stumble through the garden, with its lush greenery that defies the seasons and stays that way all year round - the tall, proud apple tree in the center, the greenhouse off to the side, an old Devil’s Ivy creeping up the south-facing wall. They make it about four steps at a time before stopping to kiss again; completely lost in each other.

Crowley nearly trips trying to walk backwards up the steps and kiss Aziraphale at the same time, before ending up back in their living room. Crowley snakes his arms around Aziraphale’s neck as he kisses him, pushing the angel backwards until he tumbles onto the plush sofa, Crowley landing in his lap. 

Almost as soon as they land, Crowley’s lips are on his again. His legs are bracketing Aziraphale’s thighs and his arms are winding around Aziraphale’s neck as the blanket slides off of him and to the floor.

“You know, dearest,” Aziraphale says breathlessly as Crowley kisses his neck, “you might not be so cold if you would wear an actual shirt to sleep in.”

“Nah, you’re warm enough.” Crowley brings their lips together again, fingers tangling in Aziraphale’s hair. Aziraphale moans and Crowley takes full advantage, mapping out the angels teeth as though he hasn’t done it a hundred times already. A thousand, even. 

It never gets old, being free. Being able to just _be_. Here, in this cottage, trading languid and sleepy kisses. Wrapped up in each other on their sofa as the sun starts to stream in through the garden windows. 

Aziraphale can feel Crowley practically melting into him, still soft and vulnerable in the early morning, despite whatever protests he’d make to the contrary. They kiss and they sigh. Aziraphale runs his hands up Crowley’s sides, along his ribcage, while Crowley twirls that one particular curl of blond hair at the nape of Aziraphale’s neck around his finger. The well-tread paths of each other, those that are known to practiced lovers.

It still feels like the first time, every single time. Aziraphale often wonders if he’ll ever run out of this overflowing and overwhelming love he feels. Every day, there’s more of it. 

He’ll look over at Crowley sleeping so peacefully in their bed in this home they made together, and he falls more in love.

Crowley will try to cook something and inevitably burn it horribly and they’ll order takeaway, and he falls more in love.

They’ll share a bottle of wine, stay up drinking and talking about Someone-knows-what into the early hours, like they used to do in the bookshop. But now, those gazes can linger, their hands can entwine. Every time he catches Crowley staring at him with that hazy drunken fondness, he falls more in love.

He’ll go out to the garden, catch Crowley covered in dirt with leaves sticking out of his hair, screaming at the rhododendrons. And as Aziraphale reaches to pluck out the leaves, he falls more in love.

Being an angel, he can tell it’s the same for Crowley. Six thousand years of longing to touch and never being able to has done nothing to dampen the love that radiates off of the demon in waves. 

Aziraphale runs his fingers along Crowley’s back, stroking where his wings would be if they were in this plane of existence, and Crowley shudders. He retaliates by running a featherlight touch of his own along the shell of Aziraphale’s ear, grinning like a thief at the low whining sound that it earns him. 

They know each other inside and out, have for centuries. But this is recent, the knowing of each other’s bodies. Now Aziraphale knows what makes Crowley tick, what makes him weak in the knees. Crowley knows this of Aziraphale, too. 

“Angel,” Crowley says with a low growl to his voice as he trails kisses up Aziraphale’s jaw, “take me back to bed, yeah?” This last bit is whispered low in the angel’s ear, and sends a shiver up his spine. 

If he were capable of words at the moment he might say something like _yes my dearest_ or _whatever you want darling_. Instead, he groans and captures Crowley’s mouth with his again. He wraps one arm tightly around Crowley’s back, the other one underneath him. In one fluid motion he stands and lifts Crowley off the couch with him. 

Crowley’s clings tighter to Aziraphale’s neck as he wraps his legs around the angel’s waist. “Love it when you manhandle me, angel,” Crowley says against his lips.

“It’s not difficult; have you seen how skinny you are?” Aziraphale says between kisses as he attempts to carry Crowley back to their bedroom. They’re stalled momentarily in the hallway, because the divot below Crowley’s Adam’s apple proves to be entirely too much temptation for Aziraphale. It’s not his fault if he has to pin his demon to the wall and kiss bruises into his neck. He can’t be blamed for that, he’s meant to be thwarting after all.

Once they eventually make it to the bedroom, Aziraphale all but tosses Crowley onto the bed. He climbs on top, trailing kisses up Crowley’s chest, teasing his nipples with his tongue and relishing the little gasps he knew it would draw out of his husband. 

Aziraphale isn’t able to see the future, there are no books of prophecy for him and Crowley. But he knows, deep down in his heart of hearts, he will never get tired of this. This so human expression of love. The way they fit together. The way every kiss still steals his breath. The way Crowley’s eyes light up with reverence and devotion and so much love that Aziraphale feels he’ll drown in it. 

He twines his fingers in Crowley’s long red hair as he kisses him again, pressing down into him, bodies flush together. Practiced lovers, finding home in each other once again. They take their time on this well-tread path.

Aziraphale kisses his way back down Crowley’s chest slowly, savoring the salt-sweat taste of him, feeling the sparse chest hair tickle his nose, relishing the feel of it. He knows Crowley’s sharp edges, the curves of his body, just as Crowley knows his. Aziraphale can feel Crowley’s breath hitch with every kiss, every lick. Can feel him shudder when he runs his hands along his ribcage, down to his thighs, silk pyjamas cool on his fingertips.

“What do you want, my love?” Aziraphale asks, fingers tracing the waistband of Crowley’s pyjamas. 

“Just want you, angel,” Crowley says, eyes wide and breath heavy as Aziraphale palms his erection through the fabric. “Always just want you.”

“I thought you had so many ideas, darling.” Aziraphale says, still trailing kisses over Crowley’s body. Slow and methodical. They have all the time in the world, after all.

“Ngk...well...yeah,” Crowley says around hitched breaths. He lets out a hiss of pleasure as Aziraphale sucks a bruise into the soft skin just below his ribcage. “Making it bloody impossible to think right now, angel.”

“Oh am I? I wouldn’t have known,” Aziraphale flashes Crowley what he hopes is an innocent smile as he works his hand under the waistband of Crowley’s pyjamas, slowly stroking the length of him. Crowley moans and his back arches under the contact.

“Bastard tease,” Crowley says as his long fingers find their way under Aziraphale’s chin and pull him up for another kiss, deep and languid. 

“Mmm, I’m your bastard tease though,” Aziraphale moans against Crowley’s lips, still stroking him lazily.

“Aziraphale,” Crowley hisses, “just get inside me, angel.”

“With pleasure, my dearest,” Aziraphale says with a wiggle, a long standing habit of his that, to this day, never fails to make Crowley blush. Crowley will never admit that he finds it adorable, but Aziraphale knows him better than that.

Aziraphale slowly divests Crowley of his pyjamas, trailing kisses down his thighs along the way, pausing momentarily to leave a couple of love bites to the sensitive skin near Crowley’s knee. Crowley pulls Aziraphale back up to hurriedly work the buttons of his tartan flannel pyjama top open, shoving both it and the jumper off his shoulders.

“Have I ever mentioned how warm you are?” Crowley asks, nuzzling into Aziraphale’s chest and wrapping his arms around him tightly.

“You’re the one who decided to go outside in next to nothing, dearest.”

“Doesn’t matter, you’re warm.”

“I can make things a lot warmer if you’ll let go of me, beloved.” Aziraphale says as he drops a kiss into Crowley’s hair.

Crowley kisses his way up from Aziraphale’s chest to his neck before sighing and flopping back down onto the bed. Aziraphale wills his own pyjama bottoms away with a thought as he reaches into the nightstand and pulls out a small bottle. Crowley settles himself against the pillows, legs spread wide for him and a crooked smile on his face. He’s a vision like this, Aziraphale thinks. Lying there with his hair pooling around his shoulders and a look of absolute fondness on his face. The way Crowley looks at him still gives him pause sometimes; like he’s desperate for whatever Aziraphale is willing to give him.

“You’re lovely as always, darling,” Aziraphale says as he leans in for another kiss, running his hands along Crowley’s sides, “but I think perhaps...this way today.” He flips Crowley over easily onto his stomach, laughing to himself at the noises of protest the demon makes.

“ _Angel,_ ” Crowley gasps out, voice muffled by the pillows, “a little warning next time, eh?”

“Yes but that’s not as _fun_ , is it?” Aziraphale asks, “Didn’t you just say you love it when I ‘manhandle’ you, hmm?”

“Yea...well...guh...yes,” Crowley stammers. Aziraphale can see the tips of Crowley’s ears going pink, caught in his own trap once again. The angel can’t help but lean down to nip at one of them.

“Is this alright then?” Aziraphale asks in a low growl, one slick finger circling Crowley’s entrance.

“Ngh...yea...it’s...yeah it’s good.” Crowley writhes under him, trying to get Aziraphale’s finger where he wants it, and Aziraphale is all too happy to oblige.

“Just relax then, darling, I’ve got you.” Aziraphale works him open slowly with one finger, wrapping his other arm around Crowley posessively. He takes his time, slowly caressing that spot inside Crowley that wrecks him with pleasure.

Sometimes during this part Aziraphale’s mind can’t help but wander to the past. Sleepless, lonely nights with only himself for company. Knowing that Crowley was just across town. _Knowing_ that Crowley had been thinking the same thing. He had doubts occasionally, but they never lasted long. After so many millennia he just knew. He loved Crowley. Crowley loved him. A simple fact that they could do nothing about for all that time. 

But now, now Aziraphale can savor this. Can savor how Crowley comes apart under his hands. How he writhes and presses down into the mattress seeking out friction. All of the gasps and moans that come from Crowley’s mouth belong to Aziraphale alone, from now into eternity. And, he really must admit, he enjoys the sound of his name catching in Crowley’s throat.

“Aziraphale,” Crowley gasps out like a prayer, “Please, more.”

“Patience is a virtue, dearest,” Aziraphale says as he brings a second finger to join the first. Crowley buries his face in the pillows as he cries out. He trails kisses up Crowley’s spine, his hand splayed out across where the demon’s unnecessary heartbeat resides. Aziraphale moves his fingers slowly, relishing every sound that Crowley makes under him. Relishing the fact that he’s the only one who will ever get to hear Crowley so lost in ecstacy.

Crowley cranes his neck to look at him, and Aziraphale captures his lips once again. “Please, angel,” Crowley gasps against his lips. “I’m ready.”

“Are you then?” Aziraphale says, curling his fingers in the very specific way he knows Crowley loves.

Crowley moans and cants his hips up off the bed, pushing onto Aziraphale’s fingers, wanting more than they’re capable of, “ _Someone’s sake_ , angel, yes, need you.”

“Well, since you asked so _nicely_.” Aziraphale says as he slowly removes his fingers, catching the hint of a smirk on Crowley’s face before he whines at the loss. But there’s no snappy rebuttal here, not when Aziraphale has him pinned under him like this.

“You’re so lovely spread out like this for me, my dearest,” Aziraphale whispers against Crowley’s ear as he lines himself up. He pushes into Crowley slowly, letting himself feel the pressure and the heat of him. He steadies himself with one hand on the bed as the other tenderly brushes Crowley’s hair off of his shoulder. He wraps his arm around Crowley’s chest, trailing kisses on the back of Crowley’s neck and shoulders as he fully sheathes himself inside of him, feeling Crowley’s pulse quicken and his breath hitch in his throat.

“How is that, my beloved?” Aziraphale rasps against Crowley’s ear, thrusting just enough to keep Crowley from complaining, but not quite enough to accomplish anything.

“Incredible. Angel, fuck’s sake, I love you.”

“And I love you, dearest. Now, what was that about manhandling earlier?” He hears Crowley suck in a shuddering breath as Aziraphale takes his earlobe between his teeth.

“Did you have something in mind, angel?”

“I can think of a few things,” Aziraphale says, nipping at the juncture between Crowley’s neck and shoulder, “since you seem to have forgotten any and all ideas you had earlier.”

“Nhh...well...nyuhh.”

“Eloquent as always, my dear.”

Aziraphale wraps his arm around Crowley tighter and pulls them both upright, Crowley still surrounding him but now in his lap. His hand stays spread across Crowley’s chest, holding the demon tight to him, while his other hand finds Crowley’s hip. 

“Aziraphale!” Crowley gasps at the new angle; Aziraphale now even deeper. He reaches back to wrap an arm around Aziraphale’s neck and grasps at Aziraphale’s thigh with the other, nails digging into the soft, plush skin. Aziraphale moans at the sharp pinpricks of pain mixing with the pleasure. Another sensation on top of so many, each one bringing something else to him to elevate the experience. 

He buries his face in Crowley’s hair, nuzzling into the copper curls, relishing the faint scent of smoke that seems to cling to Crowley no matter what. “Is this alright, darling,” Aziraphale asks around his own heavy breathing, “I’d very much like to take you apart just like this.”

Crowley makes a high keening sound and grips Aziraphale’s thigh even tighter. “Yes, angel, fuck.”

“Well, if you insist.” Aziraphale doesn’t give Crowley the chance to make a rebuttal at the joke, tightening his grip on the demon’s hip to lift him up with just one hand and bring him back down slowly. Crowley moans out, arching his back. Aziraphale runs his other hand down Crowley’s arm, settling around his wrist, holding his hand in place. He’s not ready to lose those pinpricks yet.

“ _Aziraphale_ ,” Crowley hisses out, breathing hard. Aziraphale feels nails on his scalp, grabbing his curls. He moans and nips at Crowley’s pulse point, all the while keeping a steady and slow rhythm of up and down, feeling so overwhelmed with sensation that he isn’t sure how much longer he can last.

Crowley is lost in the pleasure of things, rolling his head back into Aziraphale’s shoulder, peppering kisses on the angels cheek, sighing out random strings of words. Aziraphale releases his wrist and sinks his hand into Crowley’s hair, grabbing tightly and maneuvering Crowley’s head where he has better access to the long line of his neck. He licks a stripe up Crowley’s neck before sucking a bruise right below his ear.

He keeps his pace, lifting Crowley slowly before impaling him on his cock again, taking care with the angle to hit in just the right place. Aziraphale’s breath is interspersed with moans and grunts; Crowley’s cries have become some unintelligible mix of Latin and Enochian that Aziraphale is never quite able to decipher.

He could get drunk on this, on how close Crowley is. On the scent of his hair, on how it feels to be inside him. His rhythm stutters a bit as he gets closer. He can see the thin stream of precome leaking out of Crowley’s cock and he wants to see him come apart.

“Can you come for me, like this, dearest?” Aziraphale’s voice is a low growl in Crowley’s ear, and the demon curses in a language long dead.

“Yes, fuck, Someone’s sake,” Crowley stammers out as his back arches again. Aziraphale loosens his grip on Crowley’s hair, and Crowley seizes the opportunity to grab hold of Aziraphale’s hand and bring it to his lips, peppering kisses along his knuckles and palm in between his moans of pleasure. His other hand still entwined in Aziraphale’s own hair, nails digging into the angel’s scalp like it’s a lifeline. “Fuck, Angel, I’m so close.”

If Aziraphale were capable of coherent words right now, he might say something like _come for me dearest; how beautiful you are when you unravel, my darling_ or _come for me, Crowley, I want to hear you scream my name, I want your voice to shatter the windows_ or possibly something equally eloquent. Right now all he can accomplish is a chorus of _yes, yes, yes._

Here, in their bed, in their home, Crowley held steady in his arms, surrounding him and crying out in words long since forgotten. The air around them is so suffused with love and belonging and _home_ that it seeps into everything that they are.

Aziraphale picks up his pace, knowing that Crowley’s preferred speed has always been as fast as any one thing can go. Crowley moans, taking two of Aziraphale’s fingers into his mouth and sucking on them. The sensation sends tingles down to Aziraphale’s toes as he bites down on Crowley’s shoulder.

Crowley cries out Aziraphale’s name around the angel’s fingers, voice cracking and straining - his come splattering his stomach and the bedsheets, nails digging harder into the angel’s scalp. He clenches around Aziraphale and the angel knows he can’t last much longer either.

“So beautiful for me,” he coos in Crowley’s ear as he works him through his orgasm, grabbing hold of the demon’s hips with both hands now, “so lovely and so wonderful.”

“Go on then, angel,” Crowley says laying both of his hands over Aziraphale’s, fingers fitting perfectly in the spaces between, remarkably like the spaces they fill for each other. “You’re not gonna break me.” Crowley turns his head and captures Aziraphale’s mouth in a sloppy kiss. The angle is all wrong and they both laugh at the absurdity of it. 

Aziraphale grips Crowley’s hips and fucks up into him harder, chasing his release. He feels the coiling warmth inside of him building, closer and closer until finally it crests. He breaks, spilling into Crowley as he cries out his name, wrapping his arms around him, keeping their hands linked together and burying his nose in Crowley’s hair.

They stay that way for a moment, awash in the afterglow and holding tight to each other, breathing heavy despite not needing to breathe at all.

Ever so slowly, Aziraphale maneuvers them back to lying in bed. He holds Crowley tight to his chest, planting kisses all over the demon’s neck, cheeks, and shoulder. Murmuring I-love-you’s into his skin

Crowley, for all of this, has gone completely boneless, halfway towards sleep already. Aziraphale pulls out of him slowly, his cock softening in the after. Crowley lets out a small whine at the sensation of emptiness before rolling over and snuggling into Aziraphale’s chest.

Aziraphale pulls the blanket up over them, not sleepy but content to lie here while Crowley naps in his arms.

\---

Aziraphale loves the sunrise, rarely ever misses one. Crowley doesn’t always wake before he gets back, but sometimes he does. Sometimes they come back to their cottage for this, sometimes it’s just for breakfast.

What Crowley doesn’t know is precisely _why_ Aziraphale loves the sunrise so much. Sunrises with beautiful red skies, and the blinding yellow sun. Two of Aziraphale’s favorite colors. Crowley will figure it out someday, call him a sentimental old sop; but he’ll do so while planting kisses like flowers to the solid earth of Aziraphale’s skin. Crowley will smile so big and so bright that it puts any and all sunrises to shame, and Aziraphale will take his hand. They’ll go back inside of their little cottage by the sea, where they are free to love in any way they see fit.

Every morning the sun gets to rise, and now an infinity of those mornings stretch out before them. The world didn’t end, it keeps turning. Every rotation marked the same way. There are an eternity of sunrises on the horizon, and they’ll be together for every single one.

It’s all a bit ineffable.

**Author's Note:**

> Come and scream with me on [Tumblr](https://moveslikebucky.tumblr.com).


End file.
